ENGLISH VER OF HP & THE DECLINE OF THE HIGH ELVES
by HHrLove
Summary: THIS IS NOT MY STORY! THIS IS A ROUGH ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOR SOMEONE OF A STORY CALLED HARRY POTTER AND THE DECLINE OF THE HIGH ELVES BY Francisca Solar


"To Car it Fox, to be there always To Cristhian, to help Krum to appear And to all the Order, that although non wizards, yes we create in the magic ".

CAP I: Damn Silence (Damn Silence) Apparently it is quite logical but, certainly, never it is of plus a memory aid: Harry Potter is not a normal boy. And good, not only already he stopped being a boy, but in addition his interests and I put draw up very far from which they would share his same types.

Harry is magician, he has been already knowing it for six years, and although its excuse went to leave to its odiosa parentela by long periods (and thus to only return for the summer), its life has not been easy. Then it is necessary to say it: The Dursleys distant enough of being a family example, although they try to pretend it of any way.

The uncles Vernon and Petunia, added to their obese Dudley son, have been in charge to do to Harry the impossible life to him since he had the bad luck to fall, small and wrapped in a basket, the door of number 4 of Privet Drive. And although everything has "porqué", this one in individual has been painful. Confused, difficult to bear... still more that the single fact to have a scar in ray form, sharp, to the flank of its front. Harry lost his parents, James and Lily, within the framework of one night cold of Halloween 15 years ago, without at least to have shared with them.

They were assassinated, cruel and coldly, by the feared magician more of all the times: Lord Voldemort. It does not remember his faces, nor their voice... but that enceguecedor green sparkle that finished with its lives, and that, miraculously, saved hers, leaving in return this scar him. Thus also, it lost to Sirius Black, his padrino, when as soon as it began to know it. It had been many years jailed in the magical prison of Azkabán, incapable to prove to the world his innocence to him, and when just a way of liberation for him began to open itself, an ominous episode in one of the not known corners of the Department of Mysteries, lodged in the Ministry of Magic, saw it disappear. Thus, immediately. One disappeared after a torn veil, and since then, Harry has not been able to take off above of that abrumante stench to mourning. Because the death persecutes... not only him, but to everything to that he considers.

The life has demonstrated it, he himself has verified it, but never it has finished it assuming. In ahead - and had in great proportion to that odiosa scar in its front - the future it is developed for dark and uncertain him more and more, and it knows it. It cost to move away that thought to him of his head, did not want neither to accept it nor to assume it, but there were times in which wished to be only a human the more. Without distinctions, without talents, peculiarities... without stormy pasts or prophecies with its name... without scars that they frightened to and you would embobaran to others. Only muggle... without the responsibility to save to the world or, if it had left time, he himself. Or, perhaps, it had wished to only die... to have succumbed to the power of Lord Voldemort and deceased in the arms of its mother. Yes, that had been better than this. Better than to suffer by others, better than to live by others.

The summer was in its apogee but, like he was usual in Privet Drive, was no children playing with water in the recostados sidewalks nor in antejardines, looking for the shade of a good tree. In that small community of the environs of London, and mainly in that street, the sanity sense was most important what to pretend. By prohibition of his parents, no boy could play in the street: he was scandalous and of badly pleasure. Worse still if he took to the dirty knees and the wet hair. No, the children had to pretend intachables modales and domesticables conducts. That is to say, they had to be and to act like Dudley, and to never try, not even to imagine, to follow the model of his descarriado and insano cousin Harry. But it felt more and more other people's to those pressures; now, something "more great" than the last year, included/understood to cabalidad the differences between its two worlds and it committed itself to fight with them. After as much fatality, it did not have left more remedy, but even so it did not tolerate certain details. Seated after his writing-desk and receiving with affability the warm sun rays that were strained by the window, Harry smiled before the absurd thing that was most of their neighbors. "When it has children..." thought, but he tightened the lips, uncertain, "Good, if he is that he got to have them, I will leave play and everything is soiled what they want. By something they are young ". Satisfied with that idea, it watched once again towards its right, where it resided, next to its red pen and, the photography that Alastor "Crazy Eye" Moody - a prestigious distant auror - had given months him back. Smiling and proud, Sirius Black, James and Lily Potter (between all the old members of the Order of the Fénix) put before the camera.

With melancholy, Harry stretched his hand and cleared the photography with the fingers, sighing. He could not recognize all the faces in that group, but he was enough knowledge to him that had fought by their same ideals like having to them, in addition to respect, affection. He moved the head and he closed the eyes. He did not want to cry. He had done it too much, by all and he himself, and already was in favor very.

She was not a martyr of the circumstances, but all to his around did not do more than to demonstrate it to it. It had suffered, single and quiet, incapable to share it, but it was his reality and somehow it had to face it. It was Harry Potter, El-Niño-Que-Vivio', and would maintain that estigma for always. Still even after defeating to Voldemort... if he is that he managed to do it. Often he thought that all put too many hopes in him, and who would not be able to fulfill them. He wished to be Harry, only Harry, a student more of Hogwarts and a passer-by more of the magical world.

He hated that dawn that obstructed it, that stupid mantle of celebrity... He would change everything in a second, would give everything without thinking it to it, only for a moment of tranquillity, peace, calmness. For a fictitious day of happiness, in which all the fatalities disappeared and to discover, as a dream, that everything what it never lost went after all... It sighed deep, recostó heavy on his chair and regañó hard by fantasear that way. Thus it would not arrive at any place. Their parents were deads, Sirius was dead.

The destiny would locate like assassin or victim, martyr or hero, and there was nothing what to do. He drowned his rage and its resentment, took the red pencil that was on the table and it inclined as opposed to on the paper himself, erasing the corresponding day. According to his calculations, they only reduced two weeks to return to Hogwarts.

He sighed again, he corrected the position of his lenses and closed the calendar, keeping it in one from his drawers. If some of the Dursley entered its room and found its small account regressive, perhaps they would do a scandal to him. "Vernon Uncle shouting" thought, and soon he moved his head, smiling by halves. Almost a month ago he did not listen to it rugir by something. Disdainful and dry "boy" had not listened that with whom Vernon uncle usuaba to call it; no longer he sent it early to the bed, neither received average ration the less to the lunch; they even let see it the noticiario of the nine with them. Harry returned to smile, a little more relaxed, evoking in his mind the strange expression of Moody when taking leave months back: "you do not leave Dursleys them treat to you bad.

If we do not know of you in three days, somebody of the Order will do a visit to you. And I do not believe that you want a pair of magicians in the entrance of your house "was saying, defying to Vernon uncle with the glance. The certain thing is that Harry, about that strange moment of his raised life and in the station King Cross, never thought that the words of Moody would have desired effect, even though the face of horror of Petunia aunt could give a track him of which would happen during the rest of the summer. And it is not that it concerned too much to him: Sirius finished dying and it only wished to meet with him, although it had to do it with his own hands. But it was a too ominous thought and it preferred, desolate, to reflect it a little more before committing a madness. Then it was only limited to return to Privet Drive, without saying a word, crestfallen, ready to receive usual the bad treatments. But - with as much surprise that cost several minutes to him to react - that same afternoon Vernon uncle had called it to have supper, forzadamente smiling, and it had even accepted that gathered some vegetables to give him to eat to Hedwig. And that would only be the beginning. For more than a month Vernon uncle and Petunia aunt they had to fight against its hostile nature and to do of the life of Harry something... more bearable, but only if a continuous silence could be denominated thus. Until Dudley it had changed of attitude, clear that it was a case aside.

The alive memory of the attack of the dementores the last year had calmed enough its brutal behavior towards Harry. No longer it pushed it in the corridor, no longer it shouted to him nor it tried to eat his supper; following the model of his parents, it had not shared with him nor a word, not even an insult, and now as soon as it directed the glance to him. And it is not that it worried to him much, but troubled to him that perhaps his cousin had been with some type of sequel, after that its soul was on the verge of being extracted by that undesired guardian of Azkabán. It late continued arriving by the nights, and one took a walk constantly with his put boxing gloves, striking any thing that moved. According to Vernon Uncle, he lacked very little so that Dudley was discovered by some professional agent, although Harry had his doubts on the matter.

Whenever he fought did with enough children smaller than he, reason why he enjoyed eternal an ample advantage. But good, he passed long time abroad, ideal so that Harry did not have to hold being spied it after the doors, or worse at least, to listen to opening and to close of the refrigerator every two seconds to remove a new piece from enormous jamón mountain, given by Petunia Aunt after which he gained the last fight. If it continued neglecting his weight, perhaps no longer the stairs could nor raise.

It already happened that, following the instructions of silence of his father, it could not request aid to Harry to reach assault echelon. It went with his arms jammed in cream pies, and neither Vernon nor Petunia were there to that hour, except for their cousin. But no, it could not speak to him, had it prohibited. So, after twenty minutes on an unfruitful attempt to raise the happy step, it simply decided to seat in him and to eat all his shipment there. Its small brain did not give for more analysis. Originating shouts of the street removed to Harry soon from their thoughts.

Not even it had to show itself to the window to know who emitted them: Mrs. Figg, her neighboring stranger recently discovered like one squib, dressed in her usual pink dressing gown and a purse in the hand, struck to Mundungus Fletcher in the head, forcing it to leave by the front grate "What will have done now..." thought Harry, smiling, soon to fix the Vista to one third person, who finishes appearing after the fore door of the house. A young person, perhaps of the same age of Harry, seemed amused very with the scene that she was present at. Walking towards them, he embraced strong Mrs. Figg, as if she were taking leave. Soon he did a gesture with the hand towards Mundungus, suppressing an outburst of laughter, soon to cross the street grate, entering itself in the avenue. Harry could not let observe it until he lost himself of Vista. Pelirroja, of contexture average and white complexion, seemed to be great a well-known one of Mrs. Figg, by the form to which they took leave. Something evasive to recognize it, thought about the possibility of going in the evening until its house and to ask to him who was, from where it knew it.

But it saw it little viable; for that it would have to ask Petunia Aunt if it could leave, and most probable it is than it avoided his glance, like so many times, and returned to his tasks. It was not the first time that saw a scene similar to the outskirts of the house of Mrs. Figg. Everything had begun hardly one week ago, where there was another moment at which Harry no longer knew if to bother itself by that damn silence of the Dursleys, or to lie down to laugh. It had been a warm and sunny morning, in which in all the house it was not listened to more than the singsong murmur of the television set. It chewed toasted his in a corner of the dining room, crestfallen, but with an eye put in each movement of his uncles. Vernon simulated to pay attention to which that the state channel was transmitting, it is hypnotized, while Petunia continued giving him returned to a smoky casserole with a great wood bucket.

Dudley, the feet of its father, saw the screen with so much or more devotion. There it went when they called to the door, in three dry and estridentes blows. The silence that surrounded them was so that all jumped of their seats. Vernon took a hand to its chest, recovering of the scare, and Petunia went to open. - Yes, it says? A woman greater, of about sixty years, and contained in a grayish suit of office, smiled amiably to Petunia aunt. She took to his grey-haired hair semi gathered in moño discreet centimeters on the nape of the neck, and heavy eyeglasses made oval in the partition of his nose.

She raised to his arm to the height of his chest, showing the briefcase that she loaded. - Good morning, lady. I look for the young person Harry James Potter. Harry swallowed with force his last piece of toasted when hearing his name. Who would look for it? It did not have treatments with muggles... Petunia blinked a pair of times, soon to incline, as if it had not heard well. - Said "Harry Potter"...? The old one agreed, calm. - My name is Ruth Tonks. I am the one in charge of Admissions of the Center of Security San Bruto for Youthful Delinquents Incurables. This time was Vernon that was choked, although, to meters of distance, Harry it was on the awares to the maximum.

One rose of a jump, with an almost impossible agility for an obese one like him. One hurried to the entrance, and it narrowed the hand of just the arrival with a sudden enthusiasm, pushing it until the recibidor. - it was Already hour from which they came! I am requesting by a vacancy long ago... - I know It, and moan the delay, but is so much the demand... - Moved the head and soon it lowered to its lenses, escudriñando the house after Vernon - It could speak with possible the internal one? - It is going to take it to it? - a brightness of excitation in its small eyes of piggy asked to Vernon without introductions, demonstrating. She smiled. - First I must fill a few forms.

Then we will see... - Nobody deserves more, I can confirm it i myself - it stressed, already almost nervous - I have welcomed It in my house by six years, and the one of situac does not know... - Mr. Dursley - he interrupted she, very calmed for the occasion - I will determine if the alluded one deserves or not to be in our noble institution seems to him? Vernon refunfuñó, causing that as much their papada as their moustache was shaken, but soon it agreed. Then Petunia and it turned around at the same time, fixing the glance to the dining room. Dudley turned around immediately afterwards with lack of appetite, and Harry sighed. One rose without they called it; of all ways he knew that they would not pronounce word. With an amused gesture, although he tried to disguise it, one approached the one in charge. - But it happens, please... - suggested Petunia, diplomat, although already it had taken it from the arm and forced to seat in the dining room - I can offer a tea cup to him buns? - Oh, no, thanks. I must go to me in minutes and... - But always there is time for delicious buns! - Vernon insisted, in an almost suplicante tone, to the time that Petunia already had extended a full plate of them as opposed to the old one.

Dudley was rushed properly on them, but Vernon took it from the sweater and it threw it backwards - While, dígame where they are those forms and I will begin to sign them with taste... - it is not necessary, Mr. Dursley. Not yet I have determined if the young person can... - promissory note Must accept it Him! The one in charge curved the eyebrows after the commentary of Vernon, and she rose abruptly of his chair.

Petunia was frightened, leaving the tea cup on the table with the accelerated pulse. Harry had to bite the lips not to loosen an outburst of laughter. - If they excuse to me, he wanted to speak solo with the Potter young person. I must analyze its present state. We are very strict to select our internal ones... - Sure clear... - Vernon, now totally docile murmured, seeing how that lady took Harry from the shoulder and she removed it from the house towards antejardín. Hardly the door was closed after them, the three Dursleys ran to the large window of the room, showing itself after one of the curtains. They could not listen to nothing from there, but they could at least appreciate the conversation... although not by much. Properly, the old one walked with Harry up to one of the great shrubs that adorned the entrance of number 4 of Privet Drive. Vernon no longer would see them from there. Harry could, finally, relax shoulders. - Tonks... Nimphadora Tonks, the youngest and enthusiastic recruit of the Order of the Fénix, closed the eyes with force. It wrinkled the eyelids, it closed his fists, it tightened the lips and, in a pair of seconds, its face became an indefinite material, like crude clay. Its aspect of old clerk was disappear, changing it by an violet túnica, trousers shining of the same color, and a spent polera something that said "the Witches of MacBeth". Its hair, now short and of ends, had acquired a glad clear green color. Harry thought that, if more approached the shrub, he would merge. - Perhaps I am not an excellent actress? Harry smiled to him, while she yawed an eye to him. - me I almost believed it. How you knew on San Bruto? - Hey, I did not spend four years in the Academy of Aurores through anything... I removed maximum puntaje in Tactics from Basic Espionage. Also I can decirte which was the last business of your Vernon uncle, what flowers put your Petunia aunt in the table of the dining room... or which is the color of your underclothes. - Tonks! - Harry exclaimed, between terrified and sonrojado. She laughed with desire. - Barren, calm, was only a joke. But the one of your uncles was certain, we have not neglected its steps. You already know how it is Moody. We have not received complaints yours, but we decided that some of us would come to you to visit, to assure to us that everything is in order. The Metamorfomagia usually is very useful in this type of cases... - It raised shoulders, complying in his new aspect, and sighed - Then, Harry... They have treated to you well you have not had problems? - I am well, this summer has not been as frightful as the others - it explained, rascando the head. He turned around slightly, making sure that no of the Dursley was spying more of the necessary thing - they have only dedicated themselves to ignore to me, even more than before. I do not have many new features for you in that aspect... but I believe that something happened in the house of Mrs. Figg. It very early left its house, done a fury. I saw from my window. Shortly after it returned with Mundungus, regañando it to vary. Perhaps something important happened... Tonks wrinkled the forehead. - No, I do not create it... Remus already me had said it - it thought aloud towards himself, escudriñando with the glance towards where the Magnolia street began -... but I will investigate of all ways. I will take advantage of that several are close. Harry raised an eyebrow. - Several Who?

She smiled to him, eloquent, soon to incline a little towards him. - nonnotes not at all different in the district? Harry returned to make a gesture of confusion, but he followed the current to him and he at great length observed the piece of street that could be seen from that corner of antejardín. And no, for him there was nothing no strange. Mrs. Barts, of n7, spoke animatedly with the mailman to a side of the grate. A little further on, in n11, a distributor of steering wheels left a piece of paper in the windshield of the parked car to the entrance. Before, in n2... Hey, hopes. Mailman? Today it is Monday and he does not work Mondays! Then he blinked. It returned the Vista towards the aforesaid one, escudriñó with the glance, and suppressed a fright. Properly contained in the blue uniform of the Company of Post office, Remus Lupin narrowed the hand of the lady of n7, soon to undertake way down the street. Clear that, before returning the Vista towards the horizon, Harry it swore that yawed an eye at a distance to him. - Remus! - it exclaimed, excited but in as soon as a voice thread. It did not want that the Dursleys thought that the idea to go to San Bruto had filled it of fascination. Tonks returned to smile. -... the one of the steering wheels is Dedalus, that makes the work of Gardening in the house n1 is Emmeline, and that handles the sweepings truck Saturdays it is Kingsley. All have wanted to help in something. Harry felt crushed. -... it was not necessary, Tonks, really. They did not have to do it by me, I I am well. There are other forms... - It tightened the lips and it moved its feet, discomfort - Good looking to that Remus must hate that uniform... - Nobody has complained, Harry - it assured Tonks to him, calmed - You are our main preoccupation. But créeme, this enough has been amused, mainly for Emmeline. It has received one pays excellent, and it even gave time him to plant an orchard of roses in house of Molly. In addition, we only come this way once in a while, as a routine control.

Harry did not seem convinced, but he was commited to agree. - Thanks. Tonks moved the head, warm. - Thanks to you, Harry. This to know muggles has been very interesting more - Both turned around to watch Dedalus, but this one already had doubled the corner. Tonks made a gesture of hardship - It will be better than it goes to me... Cuídate yes? The threat of Moody follows still on: that these odiosos uncles yours do not dare to tocarte a centimeter, because they will not want to know the fury the Order. - I will consider It... Ruth - he joked. She smiled of return, revolviendo to him the hair to him. - It is better than "Nimphadora" no. Harry did not respond, intrigued in the strange art that he observed. He did not understand how he could change of that so raudo and steep form... When younger outlandish his atuendo tailor had mutado abruptly to a gray suit, and its skin had filled of wrinkles.

They left behind the shrub, it returned to yaw an eye to him to Harry, simulated to narrow the hand to him with parsimony - only in case some Dursley was seeing them - and crossed the grate until losing itself at heart of the street. - Apparently I did not fulfill all the requirements - it explained Harry to his uncles minutes later, since they, like were to be expected, died by knowing what had happened but they resisted to direct the word to him. It solved the dilemma by them - they will warn to Me next year of a new postulation... It had given what outside to have a camera by hand in that second. The face of Vernon was of such grief, that it could well be assimilated to the most cloying performances than they filled the soap operas that to Petunia aunt as much it liked... Some scratches in the window returned to interrupt their memories.

It lowered the glance and it found to Hedwig, his lechuza, raising the chest and restregando his wings, eager to enter the room. Harry did a gesture to him with the head and she settled calm on the writing-desk. After guttural sounds, she gave some picotones of affection in the palm of his owner and maintained his passivity until Harry had cleared the letter tieed in his left leg. She had to be the answer of Rum: only hours ago Harry she had sent to Hedwig to ask when they would come by him. Weeks ago it had tried to communicate with the house of the Weasley, but had not obtained it.

Hedwig returned with the intact letter, as if they had forced it to return. Not even it had received a greeting card of Rum by his birthday... and that was strange to him, coverall after the surprise that their friends had given him. Practically all the AD had remembered him, and at night jammed their table with greeting cards. Until Cho a small note had written him... but Rum, its better friend, had shone by its absence. Then it turned around, watching on his writing-desk: showing windy its contents, they were the letters of the members of the AD, Hagrid (next to several buns of sugar that Harry preferred not to prove), of Remus (simple but affectionate) and the one of Hermione, one of the last ones in arriving and, also suspiciously, enough more concise of which it had hoped. To Harry all this had to him very intrigued, because it began to think that something bad him could have happened to the Weasleys.

Then the last number of "the Prophet" remembered and it calmed; if something strange were happening, it had already known it. "the Prophet" never lost the possibility of announcing a good gadget. In addition, Tonks had been mentioned it. Then, and trying to leave of side that idea of fatality, it thought about the possibilities that it had left. Rum always had had a very fluid correspondence with him, and mainly, it counted the seconds so that they met in his house. But this summer had been different: Rum as soon as it had signaled life, and the worse thing of everything, had not given indications to want to invite it to the madriguera. It would be gotten upset with him? No, it was not possible; if thus outside already it would know it. The certain thing is that Harry had a strong suspicion, after all, and it did not blame it.

More surely it is than Rum did not know how to speak to him, how to treat it after which the one of Sirius was so recent, and simply chose not to write to him. Perhaps to be expensive to face with him would be more uncomfortable still. And it also thought it for Hermione, Remus or Hagrid: no of the three had asked nothing to him on the subject, and he preferred it thus. At heart, he thanked for his silencios. In a last attempt, he made another letter and he sent again to Hedwig to house of Rum, without more hopes than the previous times... only that now, several hours later, it was there, rebosante, visibly glad by to have left, finally, the note into the hands of his adressee. Although it is certain that the life of Harry in Privet Drive had not been so miserable east summer, yes was anxious to see his friends again and to return, like always, to the world to which really he belonged.

Silence in that land muggle did not help it to surpass its pain... although he was not too safe that Hogwarts was a better life-guard... He separated some books from his bed and one seated, stretching the small piece of paper before his eyes. The letter was brief, but sufficient to satiate the nervousness of Harry: "Loved Harry: Pardon by not haberte before written but Happy Birthday. Tonight we will go by you. My parents been very have occupied in successive meetings of the Ministry of Magic. Or you know, by all this that Mr. Tenebroso or returned and is necessary to take measures, but Mother said to me that she could go today to buscarte. I have many things what contarte, friend. And ah! Ponte your better clothes muggle. You I will already explain it. Rum " Very instinctively it passed a hand through his rebellious hair. Why it had to get dressed in his better clothes? Perhaps Mr. Weasley would have guests to some people of the ministry to have supper, and Rum would want that all give a good impression. Then it smiled, satisfied.

If this it had been another year, the nervousness to do papelón would have made it shake, since the clothes used and extra-great of Dudley distaba much of being a good one atuendo. But thanks to the conversation of some members of the Order with the Dursleys months back - always in an opportunely threatening tone - Harry not only obtained a better treatment within the house, but in addition he dared to demand some things, beginning by his wardrobe. It opened his closet slowly and it bent the eyebrows: at least two drawers with clothes muggle without releasing jumped at sight. It stretched his right hand and it took black trousers. It thought a little while and soon it removed a black shirt rallas. It observed two articles and it smiled again.

Before one had never worried as much about his aspect; lately it spent long time in front of the mirror treating to tame his hair only by halves, obtaining it. It watched his clock: six and the average one. They would not take much in arriving. It left his eyeglasses on the table at night and began to change, while it thought what was all those things that his friend would have to tell him. / Small Hangleton had become, with happening of the last years, in a dark ghost town. The death of Frank Bryce and innumerable tenebrous histories that went up to around their decease finished drowning the enchantment of the place, and they left it, by fear or ignorance, like a suppressed shutdown of the way. Even though to few kilometers there were people complaining about the high temperatures, by the streets of this town it ran a frozen breeze that hit the cracked windows, and between as much desolation, the rumors of blood and death did not seem so outside place. It was not left anybody; the last ones in leaving proved luck in London, and others, more reticent to a so long trip, took refuge in Great Hangleton, the bordering city.

The town was sunk in a deep silence, sad and dismal... but for the twenty inhabitants of the old Riddle mansion, that seemed a blessing rather. The cold air of the cellar filled to short whiles of noise of layers. Those encapuchados, mysterious and sinister, as soon as they breathed under his masks, by nervousness, others by a uncontrolled distrust. Only Peter Pettigrew, low, tree trunk and practically bald, had to smile yes or yes towards his master. Avoiding some dirty and worn away furniture, he took a tray with two tea cups. Its new metallic hand was indestructible, signs and of extraordinary force, but it lacked sensitivity, specially necessary characteristic for this type of works.

Or more from once it had returned the tea on mortífago, or broken several plates in the kitchen. He did not control well his power, he could not distinguish the textures and he spent several minutes trying to be placed his layer. During the last months that gift of Voldemort had become an annoyance, but it could not nor chistar. It would be a great deshonor... or worse than that: to complain would be an audacity that Mr. Tenebroso would not tolerate, neither the less in those days in which the things did not seem to go very or for the "dark side". Near the fire just ignited, Voldemort revolvía slowly its tea cup.

Reunited next to him, but properly bottled in its mortuary suits, Wolden McNair, Vincent Crabbe, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott and that of Avery last name they waited for new instructions. Once in a while they were shaken inadvertently after its suits... The face of its master still was unrecognizable, escamoso, reason why his you chewed respective helpful served when having to them to talk with him. Thus, at least, they would not sin of you decorticate. After a brief siseo, Voldemort took I suck. Pettigrew and Crabbe, that were to its side, made faces of disgust, but they tried that it did not notice more of the due thing. And before anyone wanted to comment out minimum, "the wound" voice of the magician before called Tom Riddle was listened to, and hard determined. - We have the news of the Lestrange brothers? - it asked, slow. Theodore Nott went ahead to its companions, sharing watched of approval before speaking. - Rodolphus and Rabastan still are in the mission that you entrusted to them, my Gentleman. The little hair in their head moved in a small tremor. Apparently, Voldemort was agreeing. - and what there is of our deserters... Somebody was after which they dared to forget my name? - Lucius Malfoy will be in charge of that, Sir... - Peter responded, a little nervous to have to contribute his voice to the conversation, but satisfied being useful his master. - There is something more would have to know? Dolohov inclined towards Voldemort, like requesting its permission to approach. Its mask remained quiet. - the resistance... Sir. The resistance is reconstructed. Until the lowest Earth creatures they handle the rumor. They are being aligned, grouping... - Also we no? - one hurried to add Goyle, with one picks of titubeo. The Gentleman of the Darknesses by halves fixed the Vista to his tea cup, smiling. Dolohov and Goyle shared a surprise glance. - Ignórenlos... is inoffensive. That they create that they go ahead to us, that is planning a good offensive. They will never suspect that they have stopped being my target... Avery smiled widely after its grayish mask, to the time that a figure happened quickly next to him. - If me he allowed it, Sir - he began to say Bellatrix, approaching Voldemort without even perturbing, before such proximity with his black face and semi putrefacto -... is a traitor to whom he wanted to catch personally. If he left me... Sir, if he only trusted my behavior, him right of perpetual ownership that I will bring it on its feet, twisting of pain. Voldemort made a gesture of surprise. Although the following thickness of its era of masculine, lately that seemed more enchanted to be again to the service of the dark arts was Bellatrix, flaming Mrs. Lestrange. And more than to stun it, for him it simulated a benefit. With a slight movement of head, it urged it to leave the hall. She smiled by halves and walked until the stairs. - When Lucius makes contact with the enemy, avísame the sooner, Pettigrew. There are some things that I have left to do before... squashing insects... Peter agreed in silence, crestfallen. He could smell the fear, hatred in his breathing and its words. He hoped to someday feel the complete security of which one was in the correct side. If no, he would assume the worse one of the consequences... worse than the death than Sirius never he reached to offer.


End file.
